Draped in Fate
by halfmyheart
Summary: One blanket. A raging snow storm. Endless possibilities.


**Title:** Draped in Fate

**Rating:** T for innuendo

**Pairing:** Sam/Martouf/Lantash

**Author's Notes:** This story was written for the_ One Blanket Scenario_ on livejournal. Basically: Two (or more) characters trapped overnight in a single-room cabin in the middle of a blizzard. It is so cold that falling asleep uncovered will undoubtedly cause hypothermia. They only have _one blanket_. There are about _endless possibilities_.

**Disclaimer:** All publicly recognizable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. This form of fan fiction was created for entertainment not monetary purposes and no infringement on copyrights or trademarks was intended. Previously unrecognized characters and places, and this story, are copyrighted to author. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

**Feedback:** Please read and review.

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It was a mistake. She knew it almost instantly but it was far too late to do anything about it now. There was only a single blanket in the small one-room shack and no wood to build a fire. If it had not been snowing up a storm outside it might not have mattered, but it was, and it did. It was true that they were likely to get hypothermia and freeze to death if they didn't huddle together under the single blanket. Her logic had been simple yet sound: they were both mature adults and they could share a single blanket like mature adults. Either they shared the blanket, and their body heat by default, or they both froze to death.

Simple. Sound. Neat. No problem.

Except that there was a problem. The problem was that he was warm and inviting and firm in all the right places and her mind was away and running before she could stop it. Memories that were not her own flooded into her consciousness and she felt her cheeks burn crimson in the darkness. For the first time since they had found themselves isolated from the rest of SG-1 and trapped in this tiny hell hole in the middle of a blizzard, Sam was grateful that the only source of light they had was a small flashlight lying in the off position on the floor beside her gear bag. She knew exactly what sort of body lay beneath all that tan and brown, and she knew exactly what it was capable of. More than once, she had waken in the middle of the night out of the throes of some splendid dream brought on by Jolinar's memories only to find that she needed to take a shower; a cold shower in which the operative word was cold.

The thought was enough to make her blush all over again.

Sam shifted awkwardly, trying to find a more comfortable position, and trying not to bump into Martouf any more than she had to. They were sitting against the back wall, side by side, knees pressed together, and the blanket draped over them. The old shack had fallen deep into decay and the icy wind whistled in through a thousand tiny cracks and crevices in the walls and windows. The floorboards were covered in an inch of dust and grime that would probably never come out in the wash and that made her sneeze whenever they moved around and stirred it up into the air. There were no mice, but there was no food either. She had a small bottle of water in her gear bag, probably frozen solid by now, and a granola bar that would not save them from starvation if worst came to worst.

The most uncomfortable thing was the blanket itself. It was too small for two people and it barely reached the floor on either side. Sam shivered as a cold draft of air rushed beneath the blanket and up her spine as she shifted positions. Her rear end was going to sleep, or maybe it was just numb from the cold, or maybe it was an unfortunate combination of both and she was never going to be able to walk again.

"Samantha," asked Martouf tentatively, "is something wrong?"

"No," she answered, entirely too fast. She exhaled slowly before adding, "This blanket is a bit small though, isn't it?"

Martouf nodded. "I did offer it to you in its entirety. Lantash can keep me alive in these conditions without a blanket; our main concern is for your wellbeing. The offer still stands."

"No, no." Sam said hastily, "it's better this way. I know Lantash can keep your body temperature regulated enough to stave of hypothermia, at least for a while, but I can't stand the thought of you suffering in the cold without a blanket. Besides, I stand by what I said earlier, we'll both survive longer if we can share our body heat."

Martouf was silent for a moment, obviously turning her words over in his mind and conferring with Lantash. "Well, if that is how you truly feel about it, then perhaps we should move a little closer. As you said, this blanket is far too small for two people to be using it the way we are now." He turned his head to look at her and Sam could feel the heat rising in her cheeks again. "Perhaps it would be more effectual if you were to sit on my lap so we could wrap the blanket around us and thereby more efficiently share our body heat with you."

Sam had to hand it to him, he was diplomatic in his approach, but it all boiled down to the same thing: her in his lap, wrapped in a blanket, alone in an abandoned shack in dead of night, in the heart of a raging blizzard, several thousand light years from home. Nothing good could come of it. She chanced a surreptitious glance in his direction but she could not read his expression in the darkness. She knew that he was testing her, giving her a lot of leash to either prove her intentions toward him were truly as platonic as she tried to tell herself or to hang herself with it and prove him right.

She licked her lips indecisively as the silence following his statement stretched out between them until she was sure the moment had passed and the offer was rescinded in rejection. She didn't know what to say but she had to say something. The silence was awkward and it was gnawing at her nerves like a squirrel at a nut.

Sam cleared her throat to break the silence, and because she really didn't know what else to do. "Um, okay. I guess."

Martouf smiled reassuringly, not at all in a manner less than virtuous, and beckoned her over with a wave of his hand. He lowered his knees from his chest, holding the blanket up with his left hand, and waited for her to make the next move.

Sam tried to remind herself that they were both adults and that they could handle sharing a blanket as such, but there were several blistering memories of days gone by percolating just below the surface. Sam shook her head, silently damning Jolinar for leaving her with so many convoluted emotions and awkward memories that she had no business being privy to.

Despite her better judgment, she crawled sideways into his lap and folded herself into his embrace. Martouf drew the blanket around them tightly and encircled her waist with his arms, his fingers interlacing and hand resting lightly on her right hip. She didn't quite know what to do with her hands so she crossed her arms across her chest and laid her head on his right shoulder. His body was warm and comfortable beneath hers and some of her tension and uncertainty melted away. She let herself relax a little in his arms, amazed at just how strong and _right_ they felt around her.

"Are you comfortable, Samantha?" Martouf asked quietly.

"Yes," she answered truthfully.

"And warm?"

"Yes, comfortable and warm. Thank you."

Sam paused, uncertain again, but just for a moment. "Are you okay, Martouf?"

"Of course, Samantha," he replied and Sam could practically hear the smile in his voice.

They settled into a comfortable silence, the blanket warm and comfortable around them. Sam dipped her nose beneath the fabric to try and thaw it out, and her mind soon became hazy and her thoughts lethargic. Before she knew what was happening she was drifting in and out of consciousness, a warm, safe feeling growing bright and bubbly in her chest.

"Samantha?" Martouf's voice broke through the miasma of almost sleep and Sam muttered something incomprehensible into his shoulder. Not getting the desired response, Martouf gave her a gentle shake.

"Hmm?" Asked Sam, sleepily.

"You need to stay awake, Samantha," stated Martouf matter-of-factly. "This blanket is only so warm and our body heat can only do so much. The cold is still dangerous and hypothermia can sneak up on you without you knowing."

Sam nodded perfunctorily. "But I am really, really sleepy, Martouf. Surely a few minutes won't hurt anything."

"On the contrary, Samantha, a few minutes is all it takes." The warning in his voice, mingled with his concern, was touching and Sam straightened, slightly more alert.

"Well, what do you suggest we do to keep me awake?" She regretted the words the moment they left her mouth. It was an open invitation for disaster. Among other things.

Martouf chuckled and Sam felt the vibrations deep in his chest. "Lantash and I could think of several things, not the least of which you would be comfortable with."

Sam looked up to find him watching her with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He was smiling, no, smirking, and she knew she was in trouble. The truth, that she had long tried to cram down into a deep box where she couldn't find it, was staring her in face. She swallowed hard around the lump that was forming in her throat.

Martouf dipped his head until his face was inches from hers. She could feel his warm breath on her face; see the desire long denied in his eyes. His arms tightened possessively around her, and she found herself trapped between the strong, smooth plans of his chest, and the unyielding cocoon of the blanket draped like fate around them.

"Samantha," he said, his voice measured and even. "Please, do not take this the wrong way, but Lantash and I have dreamed of a moment like this one for a very long time, and, now that we finally have you in our arms, we can hardly pretend that we don't have feelings some very strong for you."

His intentions were clear to Sam from the moment he started speaking, but she was still shocked when he closed the distance between them and pressed his lips to hers. For one infinitesimal moment, she did not respond, then, slowly, she kissed him back. She wrapped her arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss. His lips were every bit as smooth and expert as she had thought they would be, and she could not stifle the contented sigh that escaped her when they finally came up for air. Judging by the smug expression on Martouf's countenance, he was every bit as pleased with himself as she was.

"We once told you that we were fond of you and harbored much affection for you, but the truth is much more simple, Samantha. We are in love with you." He gazed deep into her eyes, daring her to look away, to lie to them as she had been lying to herself for years, and when she didn't, he asked, "Do you feel the same way?"

Sam hesitated, logic warring with her heart. The moment between yes and no seemed like a lifetime. It was the difference between the path she walked and the path she left behind, the women she thought she knew and the women she knew she could be. If she said yes, there was no turning back. If she said no, there was no turning back. She was teetering on the precipice of her future. The only question was: did it include Martouf and Lantash or did it not.

Gazing into his deep blue eyes, something deep inside of her broke loose. In that moment, she realized what Martouf must have known all along: Sam had used Jolinar as a shield, an excuse to escape becoming emotionally attached because she feared being let down and dropped on her ass. He had never pushed Sam into anything she didn't want to do, he had kept his distance when he would rather have closed the distance between them, and he had let Sam come to the realization that she did indeed harbor deep feelings of her own toward them in her own time.

"Yes," she breathed, ready to take the plunge into the unknown, eager to see where it would lead, but not truly concerned as long as Martouf and Lantash were there to walk the path beside her.

Sam smiled. "You said you had some other ideas to keep me warm."

"Yes," replied Martouf, grinning like the cat who ate the canary. "Several, in fact."

The second time it was Sam who closed the gap between them.

Outside, the storm raged on.


End file.
